


The horror of his love

by CulterVenatorius



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Hannibal is a Monster, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Poor Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CulterVenatorius/pseuds/CulterVenatorius
Summary: Instead of stabbing Will, Hannibal abducts him. This is what happens after.





	The horror of his love

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warning. This is a graphic depiction of rape. Be careful and act responsibly toward yourself. I had to get this out of my head, it lingers there for months. Painful fics help me getting over real life pain sometimes. So... maybe anyone out there feels the same?  
> I apologize in advance for any mistakes, I'm not a native speaker.

 

 

 

The handcuffs cut in his wrists, his arms attached above him to the headboard of the bed. Small beads of blood trickle down.

“Oh Will” Hannibal sighs, “why do you still inflict pain on yourself? This has always been your weak point. Not your empathy or Jack's abuse of your gift. No, always denying yourself pleasure, always reaching for it just to refuse it right on the threshold of your true becoming.”

“Doctor Lecter...”

“Don't be afraid, my dear. You are too precious to me for consuming your body on my table. It would be a feast even the gods would envy me. But it would be over too soon and I would never be able to recreate the taste of your flesh in anyone else.”

A small flicker of hope flashes in Will's eyes but he tries desperately not to cling to it. What has Hannibal in mind? Will he just take a part of him if he don't want to kill him? Will he force him to take part in the meal just like he did with Abel Gideon? The profiler thinks of his stream, of the quiet and peace there, thinks of the meditative procedure of crafting fly fishing lures, thinks of running his fingers through the fur of his dogs... He knows that Hannibal knows which meaning this holds to him. “Not my hands, please, Hannibal, not my hands, not them.”

Hannibal chuckles. “Do not entice me. But I see, you misread the situation. I won't cut anything off of you, I won't do anything I did to those I deem pigs. You are too unique and bright to set you near anyone of them. Besides, do you really think you are my victim?” He makes a tsking noise, bends over Will and tucks a loose curl behind Will's ear.

“I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift. But you didn't want it. I have already punished you through taking Abigail from you. I would have gutted you, right then and there on the kitchen floor if I wouldn't already have given you absolution through Abigail's blood sacrifice.”

He starts to unbutton Will's shirt and lets his fingers glide over the soft skin that stretches over taut muscles.“No, Will. This isn't about punishment. This is about purification. I will take your plain morality you still insist on clinging to away. I will make you accept your true self and finally teach you to allow yourself to indulge in all kinds of pleasure.”

He unbuckles Will's belt and starts to remove his trousers and boxers, laying him bare. Will's eyes widen, finally understanding where this is meant to go. The sudden realization renders him speechless and he starts once again to struggle, tries to kick Hannibal. But the older man simply laughs, gets up and undresses himself, his thick and long cock already erect. He grabs a bottle from the nightstand. Then he pushes Will's legs apart, settles between his thighs and shoves a pillow beneath his ass. Hannibal uncaps the bottle and squeezes a small amount of lube on one of his fingers. He leans down and circles Will's hole with one hand while playing with the younger man's flaccid penis with the other. Soon, he presses the pad of the finger against the entrance and slips it into Will to the first knuckle, moving it forth and back quickly but carefully. “You are so tight. I assume you have never been with a man?”

At this, Will leans up, anger replacing fear, and spits accurately in Hannibal's face. The man straightens up, whips the saliva from his face and pushes his fingers in his mouth to taste Will.

“Ah, delicious. But always so stubborn, aren't you? I strongly advice to give up fighting.”

“Never” Will hisses.

Hannibal sighs in feigned exasperation. “Well then, as always you choose a rather painful becoming. But be assured, I do not despise you. Maybe the pain of birth you have to give to your true self is a necessity to you. What a shame, I would have loved to prepare you properly.” He withdraws his finger, pours some lube over his length and gives himself a few strokes. Will tries to squeeze his legs but Hannibal just spreads his knees a little further, forcing Will's thighs apart. His eyes gleams as he grabs his shaft and positions himself against Will.

“Are you ready, my dear?” Without waiting for an answer he pushes inside, forcefully, until he bottoms out.

 

And Will screams.

 

Never has he felt such pain. It's like he is stabbed with a burning blade. He can downright feel the soft skin around his hole and inside him being ripped. And Hannibal doesn't give him time to adjust. He withdraws just to slam back, over and over again. Will thought he could stand whatever Hannibal would do to him, could scream from pain until he is hoarse. But never has he thought he would be reduced to a whimpering, begging mess. Only a litany of “don't, please, stop, stop, please, no, Hannibal, no, no, no, don't do this to me, please, please, don't” stumbles form his mouth.

And Hannibal baths in this sounds, revels in the sight of Will's tears. They stream over his cheeks, flow down on the pillow in which the empath presses the side of his face.

“You are so beautiful in your suffering, Will. Look at me, see how I adore you, see how I give myself to you.” And Will is too exhausted to struggle as Hannibal grips his chin and turns his head, forces him to look in those relentless dark eyes as he fucks into him. Only when his former psychiatrist, his former friend leans down to lick up the tears he squeezes his eyes shut.

The taste of tears, the sound of sobs and the smell of Will's pain and utter helplessness is what pushes Hannibal towards the edge. He increases his speed, bends even further down, Will's bend legs between them. And finally, finally his thrusts become erratic.

“Oh Will...you are so exquisite... Will...you are _mine..._ ”

Will doesn't need his empathy to realize that Hannibal is close. But not this, not another humiliation. “No, pl...please Hannibal, not... please not inside me, please, don't” he begs and sobs.

“Beautiful boy, how could I ever resist you? What you do to me...I will mark you as _mine_ , over and over again _..._ Will _... Will!”_

And then he comes, shouting Will's name, Will, who feels despite all the pain Hannibal pulsing inside him, releasing in him. He prays to black out, to be taken away, but it doesn't happen. He feels all of it, feels Hannibal's cum inside him, his weight on him, feels their sweat sticking them together, feels the pain when Hannibal sits on his heels and slips out, feels the burning of warm fluids, white and red, so much red, dripping out of him.

 

Will doesn't know that the worst of all is yet to come.

 

It's after Hannibal got up and came back with a warm damp washcloth, after he gently, so gently cleaned him, shushing him whenever he gives a hiss of pain. After he applied a salve that alleviates the pain. After he unchained Will and tended to his wrists, applying salve on them too, wrapping them in white gauze. After he rolled Will carefully to one side to strip the soiled bedclothes and put fresh linen on the bed, then carefully rolling him back to repeat it on the other side of the bed. After he laid down and took Will in his arms, spooning him, covering them under a white soft blanket.

It's then, with Hannibal's hand gently stroking through his hair, murmuring soothing words in a foreign language that he realizes that the worst is not the pain and humiliation inflicted by the rape. The worst is: Hannibal loves him with every fiber of his heard. A love so all consuming as the burning plasma of the sun combusting everything else. There is nothing left, no other feelings, thoughts or desires than Hannibal's. And Will, captured in this caring arms, struggles his empathy. Struggles in vain to hold onto his own feelings, his own being. Struggles in vain against merging with the mind of the man who only brought misery, pain and death to him.

 

And this, this is the true horror of his love.

 


End file.
